


safe and sound, poor sweet child

by FastPuck



Category: Homestuck
Genre: BDSM, Dubious Consent, Egbertcest, Incest, M/M, Rape Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FastPuck/pseuds/FastPuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets pushed roughly onto his bed and he wishes he could say it was the first time. He struggles under his father's weight but, just like last time and the time before that, he's much too heavy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	safe and sound, poor sweet child

At nine o’clock sharp the safety of John’s room is violated, his space invaded by someone much, much bigger than he.

John gets pushed roughly onto his bed and he wishes he could say it was the first time. He struggles under his father's weight but, just like last time and the time before that, he's much too heavy. His wrists are pinned hard, defying the softness of John's mattress and blankets.

"Dad--"

"Be silent."

Dad's voice is colder than death and it steals the breath from John's lungs, makes him let out a long gasp he can't draw back in.

The weight of Dad's hips settles in against John's ass and he shivers and curses himself for dressing light, much too light, basketball shorts and nothing under. It doesn't do a thing to muffle the feel of Dad's heavy cock, already hard and insistent. John's eyes screw shut and he grits his teeth; he wonders if he should risk trying to buck free again, wonders if that won't just get his neck pinned instead.

That's what Dad did last time. And he always holds John face-down.

Dad breathes on John's bare neck and John goes for broke, thrashes and twists as best he can, pulls his knees up to try to kick Dad away. The angry snarl he hears frightens him enough to hesitate; Dad pins the back of John's knee with his own and John bites down the whimper, saves it for after his arm gets twisted behind his back, too high too high--

"Don't you dare fight your father John."

"H-hurts--"

The grip on his arm tightens and John lets out a pathetic gasp when Dad roughly palms his ass through his shorts.

"Don't lie John."

"You always enjoy this eventually."

Dad's thumb hooks under the waistband and tugs down, over supple curve. John squirms but he can't even use his free arm without hurting the other. His heart races as fingers prod him and find him not as tight as he should be, and shame burns inside and out when Dad asks, "What's this?"

"So this is what you were doing before dinner, hm? Playing with your toys."

"N-no I--" John yelps when two fingers push in.

"I TOLD you not to lie, John. Tell the truth."

"Dad please..."

Dad's hold on John's arm slackens for just a second, pushes again until John's voice cracks with a pained moan.

"I-I was j-just fooling around!"

Dad crooks his fingers, his thumb smears residual lube around his son's hole.

"You just can't get enough then, can you? I'm not enough?"

"Dad no-- ngh" his arm twists once more, and John's starting to get used to the sparks of pain that shoot through his muscles.

John hears the zipper's rasp over his own heavy breathing. He struggles in vain once more but he's losing feeling in his pinned leg and he can't think as straight with pain in his system.

"I'll just have to remind you who owns you then."

Dad's cock pushes just barely against John's ass and his whole body stops.

The first thrust always hurts, always brings the same high pitched whimper from his throat, always makes his dick twitch against the sheets. Dad drives in again, and again, and the pain lessens and John is thankful for using so much lube before, because Dad never uses any on him.

His free hand fists in his sheets and he can feel Dad lean down behind him, pounding his smaller body against his bed.

"You are my son and thus my property, John."

Dad releases John's arm, but he doesn't have enough fight left in him anymore so he just lets Dad grasp his shoulder. Lets him slide his fingers up to hold his throat as the loud slap of Dad's skin against his own makes tears prickle in his eyes.

"You're a thing." John's throat spasms and his whole body is moved by Dad's. A hand pushes his shirt up and moves around his front. John holds back his voice and his muscles clench, he tries to squirm, Dad finds John's hard cock and squeezes it.

"You damned slut."

John sobs and the first tear falls.

Dad thumbs precum from John's slit, pumps him slow and Dad's hand is so much bigger and stronger than his that it hurts, hurts as much as the snap of Dad's hips.

He's so big, too big and John just cries.

His shoulders shake and Dad almost cuts off his air supply as he speeds up. The slap of his balls against John's sharply precede the dull thud of John’s bedframe against the wall, SMACK creak-THUD.

Dad growls obscenities at John until his filthy-slutty-toy-of-a-son comes, and when Dad smears John's cum roughly down his back it almost feels like a caress.

He bites his pillow when Dad thrusts harder and faster still, and he thinks it's never going to end, he's just going to keep taking him until there's nothing left but the rattle of his lungs rushing air from his limp body, and then he'll take that too.

Dad thrusts one last time and holds; John's neck is free, he doesn’t know when it happened, but the fingers biting into his collarbone and hip aren't much better.

Dad comes inside John and John feels just like the toy Dad tells him he is.

"You see, John, this is why you're mine."

Dad pulls out and a thin trail of cum dribbles out with him.

"Maybe this time the lesson will stick."

The tremble of John's entire existence eventually subsides; sobs turn to weak hiccups, hands are on his body but he can’t focus on them.

John’s consciousness wobbles intermittently and his muscles seem to vibrate... he starts to come back to himself when he smells hot cocoa.

“Are you okay?”

"Mm...."

John can't move much more than his head; a hand helps him sit up. It's a gentle hand, a loving one, one he doesn't flinch from, nor does he flinch from the solid body now supporting him.

"John I'm so sorry."

John takes his first sip, barely manages it on his own, but he does. "Don't be, Dad. You were amazing."

John smiles tiredly at his father, watches the pinch of his brows relax slightly and his jaw soften. John's hand starts to shake too much to hold his mug, so he switches to the other hand.

"I love you John."

"Love you too." John leans into him, rests his head against Dad's collar, rumpled now.

"I drew you a bath."

John sighs, and it stutters a little, "Carry me?" His voice is wrecked.

"Of course darling."

Dad takes his cocoa away and John forgets the world until it's full of steam and warmth.

Dad cleans his body and massages his stressed muscles with loving care, and John in turn murmurs gently, "It's okay," "I love you Dad," "You did so well," "Thank you Daddy."

He makes a point to look Dad in the eyes every time, smile at him sweet and push his guilt away.

"I almost wasn't able to go through with it, you have no idea how relieved I was you stretched yourself for me."

"That's why I did it, Dad."

"Oh my sweet boy," John is gathered up and pulled gently from the tub, toweled off slow. John leans up and kisses his dad's lips, "Thank you for doing that, Dad."

Dad pets John's damp hair and holds him close. "Let's go to bed, sweetheart."

John is carried bridal style into Dad's room and is placed on his bed light as a feather; he's always treated like a princess after nights like this. John sighs and snuggles up naked against Dad, curls his arm tight around him.

He’ll ache so much tomorrow, poor sweet child.

Even now Dad is still afraid to hurt John, has to spend the entire day preparing for him as John prepares for Dad.

John always starts it; becomes a meek, fleeting shadow in his house, hiding from him and twisting away from any touch, telling Dad to get into character, telling him to become frustrated with John shying away from him. Become possessive and angry.

The first time hurt Dad more than it hurt John, by far. He cried until John’s (shaking) hands soothed his fears and guilt away.

But they’ve settled into a rhythm by now, and Dad finds ways to enjoy these nights too, without feeling monstrous for it, because it’s what John wants. He trusts John to stop him, writes him three separate safety words and four nonverbal signals and leaves the note at John's computer desk.

Even now John calls the shots, keeps physical contact with Dad to let him know he did well, that he still trusts Dad to be gentle after these times.

Dad strokes John's hair and his back until the last of his son’s tension bleeds away and his body finally lets him sleep, safe and sound.

**Author's Note:**

> hehe, I hope the first half didn't frighten you away! thanks for reading.


End file.
